


Smash

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 16:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Little Estel thinks Lindir worries too much.





	Smash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avocado_bros_4thewin (mkblitz)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mkblitz/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for mrpineapple42’s “#8 feathers with gen ittybitty!Estel” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/162565904960/prompt-list-3).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The best part of a newly made bed is bouncing on it, which Estel takes full advantage of the second Lindir’s out of the room. He knows Lindir will come back—Lindir always frets over him before bedtime, making sure his room’s clean and asking if he has need of anything—but he figures it’s a good example to set. If he _is_ going to grow up to be the future king of Gondor, he’s going to need to know how to handle his subjects. And Estel knows that when he’s king, everyone will have more fun than Lindir does.

So even when Lindir returns, slipping gracefully into his quarters, Estel keeps trying to reach the ceiling. The springs of the bed groan, corners occasionally scraping against the floor, but he’s _so close_. With his hand stretched over his head, he keeps leaping straight up. He isn’t surprised that Lindir immediately scolds, “Estel, stop that!”

“Nope,” Estel answers, because Lindir often calls him a little lord, and lords can do whatever they want. Estel wants to keep bouncing right through the night. Lindir just gives him a helpless sort of look that he grins at. If it were Erestor, Estel would be in time-out by now. But Lindir never gives him those, and he knows that if he insists on staying up, he can. 

A flurry of emotions flitter across Lindir’s face, and when he finally starts coming forward, Estel’s vaguely proud of him; Lindir doesn’t seem to have been born with the same courage Estel was. Lord Elrond says Men are brave and strong, but Elrond’s that way too, so maybe it’s just Lindir. At the foot of the bed, Lindir repeats, “Estel, stop.”

Estel just sticks out his tongue, bouncing higher. Then, to his astonishment, Lindir reaches out a hand as though to grab him. Estel easily jumps backwards, laughing, and grabs his pillow for defense.

Lindir comes after him, chasing him frantically around the bed, but Estel’s small and quick and dodges well. When Lindir gets too close, Estel swings the pillow at him, knowing it won’t hurt but tossing it hard anyway, and it bursts against the side of Lindir’s face.

The stitching on the side gives out, and the innards go flying everywhere, exploding across the room like a popped cloud. Estel actually stumbles backwards, half in surprise and half because a feather lands on his mouth and he has to spit it away. For one wild moment, the air is white and full of snow.

Then it’s settled, and the feathers are all over Estel’s floor, bed, nightstand, and poor Lindir’s hair. Lindir stands frozen in the middle of it, looking singularly more horrified than Estel’s ever seen anyone. 

Estel actually stops bouncing, muttering, “Oops.”

Lindir’s lips part. His eyes twitch, but he remains stiff, tense, and eerily silent. Then he lifts his hand to his mouth, and Estel starts to worry that he’s sick.

He shakes his head and finally manages, “What have you done...”

“It’s okay,” Estel assures him, now actually feeling a smidgen guilty. Even if it’s funny sometimes, of course he never _means_ to distress Lindir. “We can clean it up—”

“It is everywhere!” Lindir interrupts hysterically. “And Lord Elrond will be here any minute to tuck you in!”

“He won’t mind,” Estel insists, because even if he earns a scolding, Lord Elrond always forgives him and treats him nicely. Lindir doesn’t look sure at all.

In a panicked frenzy, Lindir starts darting about the room, snatching feathers into his arms, and it would be comical if not for his tortured expression. The guilt mounts, and even though Estel probably could let Lindir deal with it all, he starts to help, tossing feathers into a pile by the bed. 

They’ve just about managed to brush it all into one place when a knock sounds on the door, and Lindir’s eyes go wide as saucers. Estel glances back at the bed, more specifically the space beneath it, currently hidden by the fall of his blankets, and they seem to have the idea at the same time. They both hurriedly push the pile underneath, and Lindir’s smoothing it back into place as Lord Elrond strolls into the room. He takes one look at both of them, Estel’s faux-innocent smile and Lindir’s terror, then asks, “What has happened?”

Estel hurriedly answers, “Nothing,” because he knows Lindir would never lie to Lord Elrond. Elrond just lifts a brow. His expression is somewhere between gentle and stern; Estel can’t tell if he’s in trouble yet.

Then Elrond walks forward, and he casually plucks a single, overlooked feather out of Lindir’s hair. Lindir flushes bright red and averts his eyes.

In that moment, Estel’s sure they’ve been caught, even though he doesn’t think it’s so awful as Lindir does. But then Elrond just smiles softly, blowing it away. To Estel, he asks, “Now, which story shall I recite to you tonight?”

“Tuor and the swans!” Estel decides, as he quickly settles into bed, only then noticing the conspicuous lack of his pillow. 

Lindir instantly rushes off, probably just to fetch a new one.


End file.
